


falling; never broken

by aaskew



Category: Chinese Actor RPF, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Bulimia, Depression, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Introspection, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Please Check The Trigger Warnings, Psychological Trauma, Suicide Attempt, Trauma, Triggers, and also im bad with summaries, check the notes before reading, there isn't much kissing and stuff so im sorry, wang yibo is overcoming all of this, xiao zhan is a doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:48:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28983633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaskew/pseuds/aaskew
Summary: Wang Yibo is struggling to face parts of him: the part that throws up everything he eats, the part that can't sleep at night, the part that kills him slowly; in the middle of this struggle, he encounters a gentle doctor.However, this is not about romance. It’s about the falling and the breaking; but never the broken.
Relationships: Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan | Sean
Comments: 18
Kudos: 65





	falling; never broken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jalpari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalpari/gifts).



> yo! hello there. this took me a long time. since english isn't my mother language, i apologize for mistakes right away. 
> 
> this is for a writer who touched my heart! jalpari, thank you for everything. 
> 
> **TRIGGER WARNINGS: Bulimia, depression, panic attacks, anxiety, comments of fatphobia, mentions of suicide attempt, mentions of sexual harassment, mentions of homophobia, mentions of non-consensual drug use.**

**I**

They’re whispering again. 

It happens throughout the halls, around the verge of the office, amongst inflexible eyes. They’re saying: “he’s getting fat again, isn’t he?”, and Wang Yibo feels drained. He remembers all those times he’s sacrificed his own wishes, ignored food, skipped entire meals a day, said he wasn’t hungry although his body was aching for something to keep him steady. Altogether, his joints were screaming. He remembers the anxiety pulsing, fast, mercilessly; he cannot stop remembering. 

If so, he can’t remember a time he didn’t care — Wang Yibo suspects there was, though. 

They’re whispering again. 

They’re saying: “he’s useless if he’s fat, no one wants to work with a fat model”. That’s probably correct, he thinks, and if he has no job, he has no money; no money, no house — homeless, jobless and fat, that’s great. 

They’re whispering again. 

And the whispering haunts him. Not throughout the halls, not around the verge of the office, not amongst inflexible eyes; it haunts him, mostly, at home, where there’s only him to face. That’s when he whispers to himself: “you’re useless if you’re fat, no one wants to work with a fat model”, because it’s true, isn’t it? That’s when he whispers to himself: “you’re getting fat again, you ate too much”, because he did, didn’t he? 

He’s whispering again. 

Then, Wang Yibos kneels on the bathroom’s floor, and sticks his hands up to his throat, until he vomits every whisper out. 

**II**

That has been occurring for months now, almost a year, even; he’s lost the track of time. Some days he can taste a cereal bar, some other days a fruit, some other there’s only water and work to devour. Some days he can watch his spine showing up with guilt, pondering about the whispers, questioning if that wasn’t an illusion, made up from the corner of his head out of madness — maybe a symptom of hunger. 

Some days Wang Yibo feels like an animal. Some days he could eat incessantly, violently, anything around. Some days he dreams about it. 

At night, he can sense the swollen eyes, or cuts of knife up his thighs; he can feel his heartbeats fast like a machine — other nights, though, it’s like his heart is not there at all. Tears threaten to slide while he’s recording a commercial, or being simply captured by the camera (Wang Yibo suspects that these tiny, fleeting things only exists to taunt him). 

At night, he can sense everything. That has been occurring for months now, almost a year, even; he’s lost the track of time. (Wang Yibo suspects time to be a coward nitwit, always moving without his agreement). 

**III**

The first time he goes to the hospital, it’s about a fever and dehydration. It’s all his fault, really: Wang Yibo committed the mistake of not drinking enough water during his late working hours, until, consequently, that new manager of his watched him collapse to the floor. When he woke up, feeling dizzy, they were already in the car, heading to see a doctor. 

That was also the first time he saw Dr. Xiao. The man had shiny eyes (those you can’t forget easily, for fuck’s sake) and could light up a whole room with his smile (annoying, extremely annoying). Wang Yibo doesn’t like these kind of people, sweet and welcoming, that one kind someone couldn’t ever be rude to; it makes him burn inside, like Icarus. He feels too close; it’s too much. 

That’s when he comprehends the assistant’s sparkle expression once she mentions the doctor who was in charge for the night. “Oh — you’re lucky, doctor Xiao Zhan is here. There are so many people for him to consult though. He must attend you in forty minutes or so, but don’t worry, you’ll see how great he is! So professional!” 

The flattering wasn’t, indeed, unreasoned. Doctor Xiao Zhan was a sight to be seen. Therefore, Wang Yibo kept his strict manner when the consulting’s room was locked, trying not to stare, albeit there wasn’t anywhere else he could look. His manager speaks first, in a rude demeanor: “You made us wait too much! We’re in a rush, there’s a flight to be taken soon. Won’t you even apologize?” 

Well, to say Wang Yibo disliked his manager was a general fact — no one in the agency liked him, that’s why they purposely sent the man to work with him. What bothers him most it’s not his rude manner towards everyone around, or how he’s never filtering his words, neglecting phrases that hurt Wang Yibo deeply: what hurt him most was the _looks_. His manager had those dull, dark, malicious eyes, never lighter, never at peace. It caused him to echo memories from years ago. 

Doctor Xiao Zhan grinned, not intimidated. “You see, sir, we’re all equals. Everyone is important here, he’s not the only one injured,” then, he turns to Wang Yibo, and asks, not subtle at all, “Does this man speak for you?” 

Wang Yibo almost says “yes”. It almost slips from his lips. It hangs on his tongue like a chewed gum; the answer remains unsaid, though. He shakes his head after some seconds. He doesn’t need anyone to speak for him. He doesn’t need anyone to speak for him, right? 

“Great,” the doctor smiles. It’s warm like a fireplace; still too much. “So, what do we have here?” 

His manager sighs with irritation, leaving the consulting room as soon as he realizes he’s not needed there any longer (maybe never was, in first place). Then, yes, doctor Xiao is trouble: the man smiles as if he’s the sun itself, talks in a sweet melodic voice that makes you want to put a microphone in front of him and laughs without worries, as if the world was bearable. Annoying at the start, yes. Wang Yibo utterly felt uncomfortable with unnecessary happiness, but could appreciate the pursuit for it. 

The doctor makes him sit, pulls his shirt a bit and checks his heartbeats. At first, his warm hands give him goosebumps, and Wang Yibo is confronted with the feeling of wanting to run away — somewhere far, only to hide. As the professional man he tries to be, alarming reactions are prevented. Before the exams are made, during the basic procedures, Xiao Zhan talks to him. 

It’s not exactly a conversation, since Wang Yibo is unable to say much, but the doctor doesn’t seem to mind. His lively energy suits him. Xiao Zhan is older, he acknowledges, was raised in Chongqing, owns a cat named Jianguo, loves internet memes and recently bought a special edition of an album from Stephanie Sun, to complete his extended collection of her merchandise. The doctor’s personality is remarkable, for sure: he unconsciously acts like the smarter person in the room (he kind of is). 

After that, there’s a radiography, some serum with medicine being injected in his veins, and smiley nurses deliberately getting a picture of him (seriously, they should turn the flash off). Along this way, Xiao Zhan has to take care of other patients, and when they finally see each other again, when a contemptuous nurse heads him to the consulting room, his face wasn’t lively any longer. Something changed. 

While checking Wang Yibo’s radiography, his brows are furrowed, and his posture is analytical; eyes tense, worried wrinkles appearing on his forehead. What should he say? Was there something to say, though? 

“You’re too thin,” the doctor finally concludes. “You need vitamins, and good meals. Have you had breakfast this morning?” 

Wang Yibo grimaces. “No.” 

“What did you eat last night?” 

He doesn’t have to think much. Wang Yibo remembers drinking some water at a half past seven, refusing to take a bite of bread and at last opting for an apple. “Fruit.” 

“A fruit wouldn’t feed you well enough,” doctor Xiao sighs, leaning closer on the table. “Listen, it’s dinnertime already. You need to eat correctly and choose better meals, okay? Don’t pretend that only a fruit could stop your hunger. It’s not enough. Tonight, I want you to eat properly.” 

How could he? How could he have a proper meal, when he was at risk of losing everything if he gains weight? How could he start to explain that to the doctor, who wasn’t aware of the things he had to sacrifice to sustain his job, to make himself steady, to earn some money and to never make his parents worry about him again? 

“I’m on a diet,” he says, almost stuttering. Wang Yibo’s hands are sweaty, and he’s fidgeting. “I have a new photoshoot coming... and I can’t get fat.” 

Xiao Zhan looks at him with compassion, and, honestly, that’s the worst. “I understand, but you’re not thin in a healthy way, you know that. I’ll prescribe some medicines in case you feel a fever again, and you mustn't forget to drink water, you need liquids to keep you hydrated. Also...,” he makes a short pause, slightly hesitating. “Your fast heartbeats might be an anxiety sign, so I recommend you to make an appointment with a psychiatrist, or perhaps a psychologist, to take care of this matter.” 

A psychiatrist, that’s great. What now, the doctor believed he was a lunatic? Did he think he was somewhat mad? Wang Yibo watches in silence while he writes a prescription, lecturing about his dehydration problems, and suddenly he’s illuminated with an angsty conception that maybe Xiao Zhan pities him, and that the whole hospital is believing he’s someone miserable; he feels like he’ll be attacked anytime, and this feeling puts him in the edge. 

He couldn’t blame anyone but him. Maybe he deserved the pity, and the attacks, and the belief of miserableness. That’s why he doesn’t even consider calling the doctor when he comes home, reading the note Xiao Zhan left on the right side of the paper, in which is written, in a small and lovely calligraphy: 

> _You can call me if you ever feel anxious, or if you need a good professional to help you deal with it, let me know, so I can suggest some friends of mine. Follow the prescription, and make sure to take better care of yourself, Wang Yibo._
> 
> _— Dr. Xiao Zhan._

The paper is thrown in his backpack, and Wang Yibo sleeps rather fast that night. 

**IV**

He dreams with blood. Fresh blood all around his bed. That disgusting smirk is there as well, hanging next to the window. That touch doesn’t disappear, he can feel it, it’s stretching his skin, biting him, marking, wounding, and then, he throws up. 

And Wang Yibo is falling again, inside that blackhole. He’s falling slowly, watching his end. He falls, he falls, and falls, waiting for the crack sound of the break. He was used to it, the sensation of losing the pieces inside of him, the ones who’d make him the person he is. 

This time, though, the break doesn’t happen. Abnormally, when he realizes, the blackhole disappeared, and there’s a smile like sun itself ready to catch him, right when he’s about to land. 

**V**

The next day, of course, his manager acts like nothing happened: Wang Yibo works all day, without sparing time for snacks, or water, or to actually buy those medicines the doctor prescribed. He has the tingling feeling that no one ever cared, so, for his own good, wondering about that matter is useless. His boss also called, to scream at the phone: “A nurse filmed you in the hospital, they’ve captured you, Yibo. What will we do if your fans believe you’re being mistreated here?!” 

A yelp of “I am!” keeps lingering on his mouth. She talks, and talks, and talks, and when she finally finishes, he’s not listening anymore, miles ahead on his mind. 

The same afternoon, he takes a flight to Shanghai. It’s long, tiring, and his head hurts as soon as the plane takes off. It doesn’t take much to acknowledge the feeling again. 

Wang Yibo wants to throw himself from that height. It starts all over again: the fear, fear, fear, spreading over his body, taking control of him; the illusion of someone across the hallway, smirking, touching, biting, hurting, bleeding; there’s the trembling hands, the sounds of crying, the disgust; there’s the emptiness, emptiness, emptiness — it never goes away. It hugs him, that snarky sensation. It whispers in his ears: “You’re fat, ugly, useless, unworthy of this fame and love”. It keeps whispering, and whispering, until he feels fat, ugly, useless, unworthy of all that fame and love. 

When he trails towards the toilet, ignoring his manager’s yells, he vomits water, and words, and smirks, and hands, and blood, and sadness, until he feels dirty once again. A shadow embraces him mercilessly, and he cries until the plane lands. 

**VI**

Once Wang Yibo is in the comfort of the hotel, hiding under the blankets, he turns his phone off, so he cannot see the hundred messages his boss sends. After all, he isn’t a kid: he knows about his appointments, and his duties, and all that crap already. 

He just feels tired. Tired of falling, crumbling, trying and crying; he’s tired of the fear of being too broken to fix himself up again. 

That’s why he calls Xiao Zhan’s number. That’s why he takes the note on his hands and listens to the beep sound several times, before a sweet voice picks up, saying, “Hello?” 

Wang Yibo inhales and exhales, sounding, probably, like a creepy guy, too scared to even express a “hey” back. Essentially, Xiao Zhan is that kind of man Wang Yibo tries to avoid. That’s why he ends the call after a second, “Hello? Someone on the line?” 

Wang Yibo inhales, exhales. He thought he could do this. He feels like throwing up again, and runs towards the bathroom. Over an hour sitting on the floor, nothing comes beyond disgust, nothing comes but the intense despair, the intense sensation of vomiting out his entire organs — he takes a hurried bath instead. 

Later, when he’s already laying on the bed, his phone rings. Xiao Zhan's name is on the screen. Hesitating a bit, he picks up the call. “Wang Yibo? Is it you?”, his voice echoes. 

“Hey”, Wang Yibo roughly greets. “It’s me. Sorry for calling you this late at night...” 

“I’m glad you did,” Xiao Zhan answers, and he can sense the sweet smile hanging on his mouth. “How are you feeling?” 

_Like shit_ , he almost tells him. _Like my heart is threatening to escape through my throat_ , it never leaves his mouth. Wang Yibo makes a disturbed noise. What could he say, after all? Many things pass on his head. He sets for answering, “I’m good, and you?” 

“I’m also good,” the doctor sighs tiredly. “How was your day?” 

Wang Yibo, then, tells him about the trip, the photoshoot, and the pictures the nurses sold for the press (Xiao Zhan got very frustrated about that particular matter, pointing out that he’ll reprimand the women involved). He tells him about what he ate (some fruits and a meal with rice and vegetables, nothing that could fatten him up, which makes the doctor suspicious), but he doesn’t tell him about the panic on the plane, about the urge, the falling, the illusions. He doesn’t have the courage to. 

In exchange, Xiao Zhan tells him about his day as well, about a patient who got angry at him over a medicine, about how he drank tea for lunch, too busy to even eat properly (Wang Yibo believed it was an absurd, but saying that out loud would make him look like a hypocritical, wouldn’t it?), and then about the mischiefs of a little girl that morning, who wanted to bring her puppy to stay with her inside the consulting room, which was against the rules. The doctor giggles while telling him that, and it’s a great thing, to hear that man laugh like that — it made Yibo glow in awe. 

After almost an hour, he feels the need to hang up. Perhaps he’s implying too much, bothering the doctor a lot, and the insecurity makes him say he needed to sleep for a morning recording. Xiao Zhan ends the call saying a “good night” in low tone, so low it gives him goosebumps. 

However, two hours goes by, and Wang Yibo cannot sleep. There was a suffocating feeling crawling inside his heart; a huge mass of guilt and melancholy held him in the bed. The clock kept ticking by. Behind the doors, in the dark, there was a shadow smirking. His hotel room became a cave full of demons and — oh, there was one beside him, stroking its hands down his throat, smashing his heart over and over. 

Emptiness devoured him. Wang Yibo couldn’t get up, or open his eyes, even when the rays of sunlight started to burn his skin. 

The only thing he did was cry silently; the salty tears sliding down until it reached his ears. 

**VII**

The next day, everything happens in a dizzy, automatic way. No consciousness, no jokes, no smiles, or photographs with the fans; albeit diligent, Wang Yibo had no mind to face anything, then acted like a robot. Memories were hiding on the deepest corner of his head. His parents called to talk about themselves and update about his sister’s marriage. He didn't have time to attend, only sending a gift as an apology. After his tragic out-of-closet discussion, no family member cares about his well-being, so, why should _he_ care? 

He still remembers. He’s still trying to forget. The whispering; the fucking loud whispering, “that boy is kind of a fag since he was a kid, it’s not a surprise...” — that was what his aunt had said. “Remember when he wanted to wear his sister’s dress for his ninth birthday party?” — that was his uncle, laughing it off as if a little boy wanting to be himself was sort of a crime. “Boys like you don’t go to heaven. I'll pray for you to change!” — that was his grandmother, terrified when she first heard about the matter. Prayers wouldn’t change his sexual orientation; he was sure of it. 

Rude people, all of them. At the end of the day, he was alone, throwing up his meals again, preparing himself for another lecture of his boss, trying to sleep although knowing he had a flight to take once the sun rises again, and the anxiety would consume him whole. 

They weren’t there. At the end of the day, he was all alone. What were family for, after all? 

Wang Yibo inhales; exhales; inhales; exhales — he wishes he wouldn’t. 

**VIII**

He attempts again. 

It’s nonsense. There was too much medicine, too much blood, all over the bathroom’s floor; dropping tears, heading far from the sink, listening to his frantic heartbeats, that wasn’t enough, was it? A tiny, tiny, tiny, tiny hope takes its way through his body, and Wang Yibo reaches the phone, calling a particular number. 

His entire body shakes, and he thinks: _“Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up... I want to end it. I want to end it. I want it to end. Please take me away—”_

After some seconds, finally, Xiao Zhan picks up the call. “Hey! Wang Yibo, how are you?” 

He can’t say anything; he cries, and cries, and cries instead. The doctor worries hurriedly, “What happened? Calm down, okay? Breathe slowly, please, do as I say.” 

Wang Yibo can do that, at least. Doctor Xiao Zhan makes him breath, and breath, and breath; makes him remember he’s alive, he’s human, that he’s real; he can be calm again, he can try again, he can be patient, he can be _alive_. 

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. 

**IX**

Wang Yibo doesn’t dream that night. 

He wakes up, the sunlight touching his forehead; then, it’s time to try again. 

**X**

The problem, then, is: his boss is ready to fire him. He knows; they’re all tired of his bullshit. They keep looking at him with pity eyes in the agency, so he drinks more medicine, one by one, although he can still hear Xiao Zhan’s voice comforting him over the phone. Wang Yibo pretends he doesn’t care. 

When it finally happens and his manager tells him about how he was too hard to deal with, and now, for goodness’ sake, he had to find another agency who’d contract him, he locks himself in his room. His boss (should he say ex-boss now?) text him information about the breach of contract; things he doesn’t care, since a lawyer would be too expensive for someone who just lost his way of surviving and doesn’t know what else to do in order to earn money. He was too scared to even tell his parents; the whole family already named him a failure, a fag, a disruptive boy — whatever. And now what? Surely, he didn’t want to add unemployed to their list. 

That’s why he only had the doctor, the only safe number. Fortunately, it doesn’t take much time for Xiao Zhan to pick up the call.

His voice is, once again, soothing. “Hey, Wang Yibo. Everything’s fine? Do you feel better?” 

Better wasn’t the word he’d use, still, he answers, “Mn.” 

“You sure?” the doctor questions, while a buzzing starts in the background of his line. “Wait — no, I only gave him serum, no medicine, he’ll stay here for the day...” he talks to someone, and Wang Yibo waits, shifting on the bed. Some seconds pass, and then Xiao Zhan is back with an energetic voice, “Sorry! Hectic day!” 

“I can call you later, when you’re free, there’s no problem,” he says, because the last thing he wanted was to bother. 

“No, no! Don’t hang up! I’ll always have time for you. It’s actually my dinner time, but you know, there’s new co-workers here, so I have to keep an eye on their doubts and everything”, Xiao Zhan lets out an amused laugh. 

_I’ll always have time for you._ That was nice to hear. It brought a relaxing, fond feeling inside his chest. 

“I told you about the new boy, right? Yu Bin?” the doctor continued, “He’ll stay for his first night shift. I’ll have to help him here, but it’s not a tough job, so you better know that I’ll pick up all your calls if you ever need something. Don’t be shy to talk to me.” 

Wang Yibo is thunderstruck. How could someone be this good? It’s dangerous, that feeling rising beneath his chest. Trusting someone is a tricky thing, he knew that, and yet... yet, the doctor was there for him, to listen about his day, to ask him if he had eaten his meals, and Wang Yibo isn’t running away. Wang Yibo isn’t avoiding him; in fact, he’s looking for his attention, even when he’s working. Damn. 

His cheeks are certainly pink when he answers, “Alright... thank you.” 

“Then? Anything special happened today?” 

The buzz on the background has faded. Nevertheless, his mind was a mess. Slowly, Wang Yibo admits, “I was fired.” 

Xiao Zhan stays silent for a minute. Suddenly, he’s scared something like a pity tone will echo, but Xiao Zhan is not like any other person, and instead, he gets incredulously infuriated: “What?! They can’t do that! You’re such a good artist, it's absurd!” 

“I’m a complicated person, I guess,” Wang Yibo is fast, “I troubled them too much. It’s fine.” 

Xiao Zhan stays silent again, for more than a minute this time around. The silence says much. Afterwards, he sighs, and asks, “What are you going to do now?” 

Maybe cry more, truly. He would sleep for days, or weeks, or years, if possible. “I don’t know,” he confesses. 

“What do you _want_ to do?” 

“I don’t know,” he says again, then adds, some seconds later, when the phone call is so silent it feels like the doctor actually hanged up, “But... I don’t want to go back to the start.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know,” again, that shitty feeling of being lost. “I don’t like who I am now, and I also don’t like who I was, I just... I don’t want to lose myself more, not any longer. Is it... is it understandable?” 

The doctor seems to be smiling on the other side. “Yes, Yibo, it is. Well then, you have to discover where you want to head. You don’t need to go back to who you were. You also don’t need to keep being the person you are now. Do you want a change?” 

Wang Yibo thinks about the amount of time he has been scared of moving on, and scared of moving back. He thinks about the amount of time he felt hunger devouring him, emptiness putting him to sleep; how many times he had cried in the bathroom and panicked inside planes. He could wish something for himself, couldn’t he? 

A change. A change would be nice. 

“Yes,” he lets it out. “I want a change.” 

“Good,” Xiao Zhan is most definitely grinning. “This is a great new start, you know.” 

**XI**

At night, he dreams about a song. An unforgettable song, better than everything he had ever heard. It was calming, like the sound of waves, but also wild on its proportions, like a tsunami. It was both relaxing and unrestrained; the perfect equilibrium. The voice who was singing was lovely as well, reminding him of sunny days and hopeful sunsets; it reminded him of how the sky would look like if it could create song instead of rain. 

The notes were clear, and when he woke up, the sensation lingered — not like the other ones; not like the other horrendous voice he used to hear. It was so sweet, to be able to feel something warm after so long frozen in the dark, all by himself. It was refreshing, yet scary. Would it be selfish of him to want that voice to never stop singing, the melody to never cease and the roaring in his heart to never go away?

Well, a man could dream. 

**XII**

Another week was gone by a flash, with him spending the days on the bed, sometimes locked in the bathroom, pondering about what he could do with his life from that point forward. Another agency would be tough stuff, he had already bothered his last boss enough to make her fire him without mercy, what would prevent that from happening again? Truth be told, Wang Yibo wasn’t a very composed guy, who could put it all together simply; he had to take his time, he had his own rules, his own ways to deal with stuff, which was: when sadness attacked him, he’d let it, he would sleep and keep quiet until it goes away, which could take days or hours. He would skip meals, lose appointments, and sometimes wouldn’t even leave his bed. To summarize things up: 

Some days Wang Yibo was there, alive, feeling, living, breathing, sure that his heart was beating; and some days he wasn’t there at all. Some days he wasn’t anywhere. Some days he wasn’t even sure he was still alive. 

How could he start explaining that to someone? How could he put that on a résumé? Something like: _“Hi, so, I might need time for myself, which could make me lose reunions or doze off in interviews and continually embarrass myself in front of cameras, making them record commercials over and over until they get tired of me”._

That is what happens every time, at least.

The next week, he’ll finally take a flight back to Beijing. He warns Xiao Zhan, who, very kindly, convinced a psychiatrist friend to attend him for free. Okay, a change, right? A start, he had said. He still didn’t know where he wanted to go, but Xiao Zhan had said that the most important thing was to keep going, keep going, keep going. He could do that, couldn’t he? 

Wang Yibo breathes. On his last day in Shangai, he makes a call. 

“Hello?” 

It’s Da Zhang Wei. They haven’t seen each other in over a year, since that time he had an interview to become a host on Day Day Up, and Wang Yibo made a fool of himself, writing something dumb on the paper, only so he could go away soon to dwell on the feeling of being uncapable of dealing with damn pression. Still, Da Zhang Wei was nice, bought him coffee and talked to him, giving his number in case he wanted to try again or needed anything else. 

“Hi,” he hesitates. “It's Wang Yibo.” 

“Oh,” Da Zhang Wei sounds cheerful, “Yibo! It’s been ages! How are you?” 

“I’m fine, thank you,” he answers. “Are you okay? Sorry if I’m bothering you, I can call later, it’s not urgent, I—” 

“No, no, no! You’re not bothering, I’m just surprised,” the man laughs on the other side of the line. “What, want to tell me you finally want to be our little host again? Because that would make me very happy.” 

It’s strange, how much of a father energy he irradiates. They haven’t seen each other for over a year, still, Da Zhang Wei treats him well. There were still people in that industry who could be good. 

“I don’t know if I’m... if I should, I—I wanted to ask you something,” he tries to be brave. _Brave, brave, brave_ , he tells himself, even though his hands were shaking. 

“Spit it out, then.” 

Wang Yibo feels his mouth dry. “Do you... I mean, do you know any agency who’d like to work with me...?”, he finally asks the question, and something curls on his belly. That’s shameful, isn’t it? “Well, you see... I got fired a week ago, and I don’t know what to do. So, if you could help me somehow, I would be very, very grateful.”

“You what?!”, Da Zhang Wei yells, too loud. “Yibo, that’s absolutely terrible to hear. How could they do this, when you’re such a great guy? Did you break any rule?” 

He thinks about it. If it was in the rules to never be a dick, he might have. Nonetheless, nothing exactly plausible, right? He answers: “I don’t think so.” 

“Then they sure deserve to be sued. Listen, if they did this to you without reason, that’s the lowest thing ever. Incalculably low of them! You can sue that agency right now, I have good lawyers working for me, if you’re interested. I can surely help you take part on this, just tell me—” 

“No, no, please, it’s not... you don’t need to get involved,” Wang Yibo doesn’t want to even think about the consequences of taking Da Zhang Wei down with him. “Right now, I just need a job again. I don’t want to sue them or anything like that, it’s too troublesome. I just...” 

They’re silent for some minutes. “Alright,” Da Zhang Wei sighs, “I will talk to Du Hua, from Yuehua. She loves you since you’ve entered this industry, she talked a lot about wanting you under her wing. But... listen, Yibo, firing you wasn’t the right thing. I’m serious, consider processing them. They can’t go away like this.” 

Wang Yibo doesn’t tell him it’s the third time he got fired. The first agency passed him over to a CEO from Beijing, while the second one handed him to that one, an associated company. He doesn’t understand much from business, but he’s sure none of them lost with those deals. Only him, always him. 

“I will... think about it,” he promises. “Thank you. I appreciate this a lot.” 

“Good, good, we love you here. What do you think about getting a coffee anytime, with me and Hang-ge?” Da Zhang Wei asks gently. 

Maybe that could cheer him up. They were always great to him. They’re safe, and it’s been so long. So long he doesn’t even recognize himself anymore. So long he didn’t even notice the time had passed, like he was in some kind of dream. 

“I would like that,” Wang Yibo accepts. 

He would like that very much.

**XIII**

When he finally arrives at Beijing, the night is already falling, and he answers his mother calls after a long time. Wang Yibo has always hated the dark, however, he travels a dim path to his apartment, where he sits for hours in front of the window. The moon leaves him with an inner guilt, an odd feeling that maybe he wasn’t supposed to be well, that maybe he didn’t deserve goodness in life. 

At night, he cries. He doesn’t know why he can’t be happy — he vomits everything he ate in the afternoon, especially the anguish. 

At night, Wang Yibo lies in bed, and writes a song. 

**XIV**

The next day, Xiao Zhan visits him. The doctor is wearing a white shirt, black jogger pants and has dark circles under his eyes — at the front of the door, he notices Wang Yibo staring, grins and answers that it’s just a doctor’s style. 

They drink tea, sitting on the kitchen's chairs, and he can’t avoid thinking Xiao Zhan walks like he owns the place, like he lives there; like he _belongs_ there. 

“You’re way shyer than I imagined,” the doctor smiles, holding the tea-cup on his hands. “And your house is so cozy. Thank you for receiving me.” 

Wang Yibo doesn’t know what to say. He never knows what to say, keeps stuttering instead, too hesitant to come close; too afraid to say something wrong, to make him go away. It's been so long since he last received someone in his house. 

“Thank you for coming,” he finally says. 

Xiao Zhan smiles sweetly. “I’m at your service.” 

After a few minutes, Wang Yibo finally feels safe enough to tell him about what he intends to do, about having called a friend in the industry to ask for help; he soon talks about his connection with his mother, and the fear. He talks about his insecurity, about the shame of not knowing how to do anything else, of having worked so long in the media that he doesn't possess any more useful skills beyond modeling. 

And Xiao Zhan listens calmly, without judging, just making conjectures here and there. There are no second intentions in his smile, only fondness; there is no rudeness in his words, only sincerity. 

There is no pity in his eyes, only empathy. 

**XV**

On the weekend, Xiao Zhan takes him for a walk in the park, when he’s finally off duty. The doctor says that nature can sometimes cure more than a remedy, and they sit near a huge tree with a direct view of a lake, where ducks are floating around, in peace. 

For the first time in a long time, he enjoys himself. They run after each other like two children afraid to grow up. 

When the sun says goodbye, the doctor takes him home, passing by the poorly lit path, and delivers him a small paper with the date and address of his first appointment with the psychiatrist. 

It's a bit scary, when Wang Yibo gets the paper in his hands, remembering that he's not, really, a child, and has a long way to go yet. “Will you... can you accompany me?”, he whispers slowly, when they’re at the door of his apartment, “I mean, I know you’re busy, I’m sorry if—” 

“Of course,” Xiao Zhan interrupts, smiling. “Of course, I will accompany you.” 

**XVI**

Two days later, he encounters Da Zhang Wei, in a coffee shop five blocks away from his building. Wang Han is also there, and they hug him, talking about their shenanigans on Day Day Up — Wang Yibo doesn’t tell them it’s been a long time since he last watched the show. Instead, he smiles when necessary, thank them profusely for the appointment they managed with Du Hua, and listen about their updates. 

It is a good day. 

**XVII**

Therefore, Wang Yibo realizes, when his mother talks to him on the phone — his legs on the floor, his mouth near the toilet, making up stories of a new commercial, laughing so she wouldn't suspect anything —, that what unites people are mutual experiences. That each person is, in himself, strong, and able to overcome anything; that this is the greatest ability everybody has. Wang Yibo then gets up from the bathroom floor after a few minutes, and thinks he can dominate the world. 

**XVIII**

(However, being strong, some nights, can be unbearable. 

To be strong, some nights, hurts the heart deeply.)

**XIX**

A few days later, his meeting with Du Hua takes place. And, to his surprise, apart from how he made a mistake entering the women's bathroom instead of the male one, Wang Yibo did very well. He didn't say much, obviously, but Du Hua didn't seem to mind. 

Fortunately, she was nice, commented that Wang Yibo should have joined the band UNIQ and hired him as soon as she heard about his resignation (she didn't even question what had happened to have him fired like that, she just heard the name of his former agency and snitched in irritation, as if she knew the character of his former bosses). Well, now Wang Yibo could call her the new boss, right? 

“Very well,” she started, smiling. “We will introduce you to a manager tomorrow morning. You can come by eight. We’re glad to have you here, Wang Yibo.” 

His eyes burned with tears that wouldn't drop there, only in the comfort of his room, only later, when he was alone. 

“Thank you very much,” he opens a big smile. “See you tomorrow.” 

“See you tomorrow.”

**XX**

Xiao Zhan is thrilled to know about that. “Congratulations! I’m glad you sorted this out.” 

“I know, right?” Wang Yibo smiles on the phone. “I also can’t believe it.” 

Xiao Zhan lets a little proud laugh escape, then the two talk about how the day was at the hospital, about the new nurse Meng Ziyi — funny girl, she knew how to take care of an eleven-year-old boy who broke his leg very well —, about Yu Bin — he had lost his stethoscope that morning, but found it fallen under a stretcher —, and himself at last — he had eaten a hamburger that lunch, although his colleagues keep saying he must take better care of his health, to which Wang Yibo agrees. 

They talk until the doctor needs to say goodbye and get back to work. Wang Yibo finally takes a shower, lies down in bed once more and smiles with the end of a good day. 

**XXI**

The day to see the psychiatrist occurs. Xiao Zhan stays with him in the waiting room, quietly, reading a magazine, sometimes showing something, or commenting on a subject he found particularly interesting; when Wang Yibo shifts back and forth, messing with his legs or hands unconsciously, the doctor asks him to put his hand on his shoulders, making circular movements to calm him down. It's somewhat awkward at first, nevertheless, the effect happens very fast, and Wang Yibo relaxes. 

After twenty minutes, his name is called. “Wang Yibo, you may enter.” 

And then his legs stop. His mouth becomes dry. Xiao Zhan notices, then asks, “Do you want me to come in with you?” 

“Yes, please,” he lets it out. 

So, it’s time. The two of them enter the doctor's office. With a pleasant smile, she greets Xiao Zhan first, then Wang Yibo, who sits in the chair, watching the white walls, without knowing how to begin. What do people usually do in this situation, just start confessing all their sins, all their personal problems? 

“How can I help you?” she asks him, hands closed on the table. 

The room is silent for about thirty seconds, until Wang Yibo hesitantly begins to talk about how he can't eat much without feeling like vomiting, without wanting to hide somewhere, disappear forever. After a few minutes, though, he leaves the room, extremely suffocated, and sits on the emergency staircase to calm down. 

After a while, Xiao Zhan arrives to stay with him. They remain quiet, just waiting for Wang Yibo's heart and mind to feel safe enough to continue. Neither of them says anything when he gets up to enter the consulting room again. 

The doctor, Li Qin, understands the situation. He doesn't have to say anything else, anything else, anything else. There is an uncomfortable ringing in his ears, which Wang Yibo ignores. 

Soon, they leave the clinic. They get into Xiao Zhan's car, who starts to drive towards the nearby pharmacy. Along the way, Wang Yibo holds his hand, and is afraid to let go. 

**XXII**

Xiao Zhan takes him to dinner that night, in a lovely Japanese restaurant. He says, “You know, Wang Yibo, you’ve achieved so much until now, you just can’t see it. You’ve gone so far, and clearly passed through so much. Giving it all up like that... wouldn’t it be a waste, to let this all go? To make all this suffering to be in vain? Valorize yourself more. You deserve the very best. Don’t forget that.” 

And Wang Yibo doesn’t know what to do, or say. The dinner is fun, after that. Xiao Zhan takes him to his apartment; it’s not so far, however, he doesn’t want him to go. He expresses that, “You can stay... if you want to. It’s late.” 

And Xiao Zhan stays. Xiao Zhan takes a shower in his bathroom, and wears his shirt. He _stays_. And Wang Yibo dreams so well. 

When he wakes up, though — sunlight crossing the curtain, caressing his feet —, the doctor isn’t there any longer; not on the bed, not next to him, not in the kitchen, or bathroom, or living room. When he wakes up, Xiao Zhan is gone. 

**XXIII**

(Wang Yibo wanted to tell him about the song, about the melody he dreamt; he wanted to tell him about Du Hua, who recently listened to what he composed, liking it right away, making an appointment with producers to record it as soon as possible. 

Wang Yibo wanted to tell him that he feels, indeed, like it would be a waste to let this all go). 

**XXIV**

The week passes between recordings for commercials, dance rehearsals and, finally, his first official presentation as a Yuehua dancer. It's progress, right? Wang Yibo considers himself good at what he does, and Du Hua even wants to take him to an audition as an actor in a new Chinese drama, a small role, with few words; something, however, that could lead him to more roles in the future. During the week, Xiao Zhan calls him, questioning about his work — usually they go out on the weekends, when they have time off. 

Wang Yibo no longer vomits as before. The medication the psychiatrist prescribed is really effective, even though he still has to make a first appointment with a therapist, as she said. Xiao Zhan said he’ll take care of it, since he knew several doctors in the field. 

“Don’t worry,” the doctor said, one morning when they were walking around the lake. “If you want me to go with you this time as well, I will.” 

“You’re helping me too much,” Wang Yibo says, but immediately realizes how ungrateful that sounds, and corrects: “I mean, sorry, I am very, very thankful for your help. I appreciate it a lot, you know. I don’t want to bother you though, so... yeah, you don’t have to do this.” 

Xiao Zhan turns to him, smiling. “But I want to”, and they keep walking. 

The sun was high in the sky, there were birds flying and kids playing in the grass. Wang Yibo feels his heart so light. He asks, “After all... why are you helping me?” 

But the doctor doesn’t answer: he’s watching the water with glittery eyes, extremely focused. Wang Yibo joins him, putting a hand on his shoulder, making circles with his fingers, and hoping with all he got that Xiao Zhan could feel the warmth he’s trying to provide. 

**XXV**

At the end of the month, Xiao Zhan visits again, preparing dinner for both. Such a diligent cooker he is, Wang Yibo discovered: he knows all the traditional dishes of every province of China — unbelievable. 

Then, again, Xiao Zhan _stays_. 

**XXVI**

(And when he has a nightmare that night, Xiao Zhan _sings_. He sings so beautifully, so much like his dream, that Wang Yibo almost cries.) 

**XXVII**

The morning after, Xiao Zhan is still there, at his kitchen, making breakfast, like he owns the place — like he _belongs_ there, with him. Eventually, between a cup of coffee and toast, Wang Yibo tells him about the song, about what he dreamed, about the producers and the settled date for the recording. Such amazing news, such a feeling he had inside of him. 

“Yibo,” Xiao Zhan starts, leaning on his arms, “I am so proud. You’ll do great”, he smiles. 

Nothing could ever surpass the beauty of that moment, nor the feeling he was holding within his heart, which makes him smile genuinely. That’s when Wang Yibo hugs him, resting his hand on Xiao Zhan’s chest, and the doctor doesn’t even flinch, embracing him in return. 

If he thinks again about how much he wanted him to really belong there, no one needs to know. 

**XXVIII**

When Xiao Zhan is gone, Wang Yibo calls Da Zhang Wei. He makes a quick choice: asks about how he is, how the TV show is, how Wang Han has been, then he questions, “Can you tell me... can you tell me if I can take the test to work with you guys again?” 

Even though they’re on the phone, Wang Yibo can feel Da Zhang Wei beaming. 

**XXIX**

Da Hua likes the idea of being the new Day Day Up host. Could be great for his brand-new career, she tells him. Being an actor, dancer and now working on a TV show? Seriously, probably more than Wang Yibo deserves. Xiao Zhan gets happy for him, then spends the night at his house, watching a random new movie from Disney (the doctor absolutely loves animations, he discovered). 

Wang Yibo feels renewed, feels like it’s easy to breathe — he even hugs Xiao Zhan again, from side to side, and he even lets him play with his hands in the middle. 

That’s when he discovers, while caressing his wrists, that Xiao Zhan has scars. 

**XXX**

Nobody is immune to the pain of being alive, after all, even if it doesn't seem so. Xiao Zhan tells him. Wang Yibo listens attentively, about the sorrow, the fear, the insomnia, the need to run away, the anxiety, the _attempts_. It's all stories of younger days, when there was no one beside him during his college days; friends and family back in his hometown. He left it all behind, all behind for the dream of being a doctor — he encountered loneliness in between, but Xiao Zhan faced it all, looked for help, breathed, moved on, he _lived_. 

Xiao Zhan tells him he used to think of himself as a weak, a coward, unworthy of happiness. Wang Yibo could relate, however, when he looked at Xiao Zhan, smiling with brave eyes, he thinks that the doctor is the most beautiful, lovely, strong person he’s ever seen. 

Wang Yibo aches to know what Xiao Zhan thinks of him. 

**XXXI**

Weeks pass. Interviews, rehearsals, the recording of his song, the new test for being the Day Day Up host; it all happens in a calm mood, nothing bothered him, not even once he threw up or felt the need to miss anything. It’s still hard sometimes, though. 

It’s still hard sometimes, but Wang Yibo inhales, exhales, inhales, exhales, and remembers that the world is there to be conquered. 

**XXXII**

The appointment for his first therapy session comes, and Wang Yibo is in distress. Xiao Zhan accompanies him until the clinic, waits for him, misses a day at work for him — however, when the therapist asks him to talk about his first year in the industry, she seemed to realize something was off, like how his eyes were traveling around the room, avoiding that kind of question. 

She’s not intrusive, not exactly: yes, she asks for more details and wonders why exactly he was fired for the first time; however, she does not put pressure. 

The problem is that Wang Yibo puts the pressure on himself. And so, the nightmare returns again, real, heavy, alive, suffocating. 

Behind the therapist a shadow appears, a dark hole capable of sucking him up, a familiar silhouette of a man smiling perversely, calling his name, wanting to touch him. The silhouette stretches out his arm, stretches out, stretches out, and when it comes close to touching him, Wang Yibo, terrified, with his heart in his hand, runs away. 

“Yibo?” Xiao Zhan asks, when he leaves the consulting room, crosses the waiting chairs, then walks down the hall. Wang Yibo doesn't want to hear him, and desperately moves his hand away when the doctor tries to touch him. “Yibo? Is everything okay?” 

His voice becomes an echo in the dark, something in the distance of a tunnel, and he runs from Xiao Zhan, the doctors, the therapist, and the smiling shadows. Wang Yibo runs, and runs, until he finds himself about two blocks away from the clinic, surrounded by people, cars, the cacophony of a shopping mall; there is no one behind him. 

He runs to his apartment, spending more than an hour wandering the streets, not hiding his tears, ignoring other people's judging eyes. 

Wang Yibo runs, and believes that running is the only right thing to do.

**XXXIII**

(It's not the right thing, he thinks later, after locking up the whole apartment and lying under the covers. 

It's not the right thing, he thinks later, after he turned off the phone so he couldn’t receive any more messages from people, not even Xiao Zhan's. 

It's not the right thing, but he doesn't know what else he should do.)

**XXXIV**

The next morning, Wang Yibo opens his window again. Soon after, he opens the door. Xiao Zhan is there, in the corridor of his building, sitting on the floor, sleeping with his phone in his hands. 

His heart aches. “Xiao Zhan”, he calls, almost crying again. “Xiao Zhan,” he calls once again when he doesn’t wake up, touching his forehead. What could he say? How could he explain himself, apologize for his breakdown, after the doctor helped him that lot? 

Xiao Zhan, just then, opens his eyes. “Yibo,” his voice is a bit hoarse. “Can I come in?” 

There it is. He doesn’t scream about Wang Yibo being an ungrateful idiot, running away from everyone, not answering his calls or texts or touch — Xiao Zhan just asks if he can come in. 

“Mn,” Wang Yibo whispers, feeling a small tear drop. “I’m sorry,” he hugs him, and both are now sitting on the corridor’s floor. “I’m sorry,” he says, because once is not enough. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

Now he’s a mess of tears and words. Xiao Zhan, even so, is smiling while embracing him, he can feel through his hair. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.” 

They’re crying together after some minutes, embracing each other, on the ground, no one around; they’re there, alive, breathing, hearts beating fast, and it’s _real_. 

Finally, Wang Yibo lets him in. 

**XXXV**

(Wang Yibo sleeps with Xiao Zhan’s hands in his. 

He doesn’t dream. That night, he doesn’t need to.) 

**XXXVI**

Some nights Wang Yibo feels like throwing up again, but he doesn’t. His meals gradually become firmer, and his body sometimes pleases him. Xiao Zhan continues to visit him, although he does not comment on the therapy, which didn’t work the first time. 

At night, when he is alone, Wang Yibo thinks there is nothing worse than memories, those cursed things that torment him. Xiao Zhan, one morning, tells him that the past will never come back, and that maybe this is a great gift to all of us; but what if the past makes different ways to come back, to end us again? Would he have to stand up, unquestionably, exhaustively, for nothing? 

Then, Wang Yibo cries. Then, Wang Yibo sleeps with his pillow of tears, alone, and thinks he will try again tomorrow. 

**XXXVII**

It’s not for nothing, he tells himself, one week later, after he receives the news that he was accepted for both the role on the new Chinese drama and to work on Day Day Up. It’s not for nothing; he is something. All of that, it’s something — something still odd for him. 

Xiao Zhan celebrates with a glass of wine. “Cheers for you, Wang Yibo,” he says, grinning, “And your new beginning.” 

“Cheers,” he smiles as well, a bit melancholic. 

For a new beginning. If that is right, he needs to get a burden out of himself first. That is why, some days later, he makes another appointment with the therapist; he will try again, he tells Xiao Zhan, and Xiao Zhan hugs him with a proud expression.

**XXXVIII**

Wang Yibo asks Xiao Zhan to enter the consulting room as well. He tells him and the therapist everything. He tells them about his first year in the industry, when he turned eighteen, in that agency that wasn't very popular, but that accepted him quickly, because the CEO, Hang-Ti, liked him. 

He tells them about his first celebration party, in which his boss took him to the corner, telling him to take a sip of his drink, because it contained alcohol and, even if Wang Yibo was still young, he already had a mature body, a very different face from the others of his age, that he danced so well, and he could trust him. Hang-Ti put the glass in his hand, adding pressure for him to take it. 

Wang Yibo thinks he will always feel that it was his fault, for having accepted the drink. After one sip, his throat started burning, and he got dizzy within five minutes. 

During that state of numbness, he doesn't remember how they got out of the party, however, when he started to regain his consciousness, when he finally felt a little more sober, his boss was already throwing him on the bed, touching his body. His cold hands were everywhere: first it passed by his legs, his thighs, until it reached the lower part of his back and front, while Yibo wanted to scream, scream, run as fast as possible; yet, he _couldn't_. For over half an hour, Hang-Ti kept sliding his hand over his body, molesting him, touching him in parts he didn't want to be touched, while Wang Yibo felt like vomiting, muttering several times a refusal in weak tone; he had no strength at all, so the words came out choking — only ghosts could listen. 

Wang Yibo tells them about the disgust, the shame, the fear, the despair, the pounding will to die; he tells them that sometimes he feels his touch while bathing, and in those moments, dirt is all around him, it’s inescapable. In those moments, when he sees Hang-Ti's smile hidden in the darkness of his room, Wang Yibo wishes to disappear, or throw himself out of the window, run far away, to where those hands couldn’t reach him. 

More than four years had passed — almost five years, in fact. Even so, he thinks, not even ten years could erase the injuries Hang-Ti did to him. 

Wang Yibo then tells them that after some point, he felt strength again, and strongly pushed Hang-Ti away. The man, infuriated, hit him on the face several times; tried to attack him once again. Not knowing what to do, at that time, he pushed his boss, who fell on the glass table of the hotel room where he had been taken, and then, blood covered the floor. 

Hang-Ti started screaming about how useless and stupid he was, until, finally, an employee wanted to know what had happened. They knocked on the door, that opened soon after, and Wang Yibo ran as fast as he could in that state. The next day, he was fired — he didn’t see Hang-Ti again. 

How could he had defended himself? What would he have said? His family would believe he had asked for it, dancing like he did — hell, nobody in that damn industry would believe his word, especially because Hang-Ti was rich, owned a company, while Wang Yibo was just a beginner, who had no voice. 

That's why he kept it. It was because of the shame, because of the fear; Wang Yibo kept all that, and it was because he kept it that those scenes keep repeating themselves in his head, every day, and that's why he has nightmares, that’s why he sees shadows of a smile following him. It's not an easy thing to forget. 

Finally, Wang Yibo tells everything. FInally, he feels a wave of relief taking control of his chest. 

**XXXIX**

Xiao Zhan drives, and Xiao Zhan is silent, and they don’t talk the entire way back to the apartment. Was it wrong of him? Should he have waited? Would the doctor leave him now? His hands shake, his heart threatens to escape; Wang Yibo doesn’t know what to say. 

When he’s inside the apartment, however, he can see the doctor’s eyes: they’re wet, with tears almost dropping. “Yibo... thank you for telling us that. You are such a strong person.” 

His mouth is dry. “I’m not,” he denies. 

“You are,” Xiao Zhan affirms. “Can I... will you let me hug you?” 

He had never asked before. The answer is clear. Wang Yibo hugs him, firmly, and he never wants to forget Xiao Zhan’s smell; he never wants to leave his embrace, he never wants to forget his smile, or his warmth. 

He never wants Xiao Zhan to leave. 

**XL**

A month passes quickly. In the middle of it, his music, _“Unrestrained”_ , is finally produced, being released in just some days, gaining huge popularity. His first episode of Day Day Up is also released, and Wang Yibo feels like a new person, with a new life, a new heart. 

It's all a lot of fun, being on stage, being able to do what he likes without feeling trapped. It's fun to be near Da Zhang Wei — or Da-ge, as he asked to be called — and Han-ge, who really treats him like a son. Feng-ge is, as well, an amusing man, who he admires a lot. Everything happens so lightly that it surprises him. 

Once a week, he has coffee with his new coworkers, and other days he dances, then trains his lines for his first role in a drama; it's all refreshing. At night, when Xiao Zhan has a night off, he spends time with him, making sure Wang Yibo is feeding well; they walk through the park on weekends, and have dinner together, and, sometimes, the doctor sleeps at his house, asking him to hug him in the middle of the night. Wang Yibo, obviously, says yes, because having him around is rewarding, it's wonderful, how could it not be? 

That is the beginning, he thinks. He is not yet healed; not completely. However, he is prepared: he knows it will happen, he knows he’ll keep trying. 

And, one day, all the pains of the past will be nothing but buried memories. 

**XLI**

After a while, Wang Yibo decides something very important. “Da-ge, is that proposal still open?” he questions one day, a little hesitant. “About suing my old agency?” 

Da Zhang Wei is thrilled to hear. “Yibo, seriously? Of course, it is! I will surely help you with everything. We will always be by your side.” 

That is everything he needed to hear. 

**XLII**

Some days are harder than others. Like, for example, the one in which his parents called to talk about his new song, praising him, asking how he was, and he missed them so bad Wang Yibo couldn’t avoid crying, holding Xiao Zhan firmly, wetting his clothes. 

Like, for example, when mean comments started to appear on his social networks, pointing out things that Wang Yibo didn't want to hear.

Da-ge, Heng-ge, Feng-ge and Zhan-ge are continually taking care of him. They all unite one evening, to celebrate Wang Yibo's birthday with a blue cake full of candles. It's a starry night. He gets presents, smiles like he had never before and enjoys the company of the people he cares most. 

Some days are harder than others. Nonetheless, Wang Yibo is no longer alone when they happen. 

**XLIII**

At night, the stars seem to shine especially for them. The next morning, he and Xiao Zhan are having coffee together; the sunlight enters through the curtain and touches the doctor's forehead. 

“How do you feel, now that you’ve turned 23? Any change?” he jokes, smiling beautifully. 

Wang Yibo gets up from his chair calmly, without fear, without hesitation. He approaches slowly, until, at last, he’s leaning in, and Xiao Zhan is also leaning in, and their lips are touching clumsily. 

It’s different. It’s inexperienced, yet sweet. Wang Yibo smiles and holds him by the neck, to kiss him properly — Xiao Zhan puts his warm hands on his waist, snuggling. And the two belong there, in that giant, brilliant world; real, safe, _alive_. 

It's a great new beginning. 

**XLIV**

There are things coming nonstop. The lawsuit, new songs, his first role, recordings, rehearsals — Wang Yibo finds joy in skateboarding again, and can even think about entering the world of motorcycling; hobbies to keep him distracted. After all, there are so many options, so many paths, so many things to enjoy. 

The next weekend following his birthday, Xiao Zhan takes him to the park again. There’s the sound of birds, kids playing, ducks, wind, trees, steps, people, bicycles — there’s the sound of his heart, louder than any of that. 

Wang Yibo holds doctor Xiao’s hands. They’re always warm, somehow. Xiao Zhan smiles at him earnestly, and he thinks that he’s still struggling to overcome a lot about the past, but it’s fine, because Xiao Zhan is holding his hand, and he will _wait_ for him. 

They will wait for one another. 

**XLV**

Wang Yibo dreams. It’s a good dream, that time around: there’s no blood at all, there’s no shadow, or smirks, or touching; there’s only love. 

He wakes up, and the dream continues, the next day, and the other, and the other. Wang Yibo is still trying — perhaps he will always be trying —, however, it’s not that hard any longer. Whenever he feels too tired to handle, he’ll just take a break, to try again the next day — he can always start all over again. 

He finally feels like falling is not a bad thing. 

Wang Yibo dreams. He is, after all, good at dreaming. 

**XLVI**

The fall happens like all the other ones; however, Wang Yibo smiles this time, and no longer feels trapped, or lost, or as if he has forgotten the person he is, or who he could be. The fall happens, like all the other ones, however, he feels that the feeling of breaking is not the same of being broken; there is nothing more gratifying than being sure you’re strong enough to trim your own fall, to fix your own cracks — he may feel like he was breaking, breaking, breaking, but he’ll never be broken. 

The fall happens, but then Wang Yibo smiles, opening his arms to feel the wind. When he lands, it’s calm and comforting, as if he could reach the clouds with his feet on the ground. 

He opens his eyes, looks up at the sunlight, and recognizes that the world is his. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you have read so far, thank you. thank you for being alive at this moment, because breathing is already extremely important. if you are being afflicted by any of these problems, if you're going through psychological difficulties, please, don't be silent. i ask you to find someone trustworthy to talk about the matter, or perhaps a specialist can help you better (perhaps both). remember that you are strong, special, and do not deserve this pain; do not let your mind make you think otherwise. i am open for talking as well, even if it's for just a distraction. you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/aaskewo) or [tumblr](https://askew-d.tumblr.com/).  
>   
> i didn't go through bulimia, but i have friends who faced this situation. all i know i learned from them and from the internet, so i apologize in case something isn't right. i did, however, go through many panic attacks when i was younger, especially in situations where i was surrounded by people from all sides; it's not easy.
> 
> alongside my ocd issues, i've been facing a depressive phase for over two years. i have been writing about how i feel. i put some of these feelings here, even the most destructive ones; i've been stabilizing more in the last months, i'm taking care. i have learned many things from all of this, so i always tell myself, and i tell you to not give up; there is still a lot to see. 
> 
> in this story, as you saw, wang yibo is not as famous as he is now. he has started his career as a mere dancer, model, commercial actor and occasionally a rapper (never singing his own compositions, though), at eighteen years old. even if he is, in fact, the same age, wang yibo in this story suffered when he entered the industry, causing him to acquire bulimia and depression, which makes him unable to keep interviews, arrive punctually in meetings and be excited to dance, sing and record. 
> 
> besides, in the beginning, although he has many fans who love him for his beauty and eloquence, yibo didn't start with his career as a television actor, and didn't join, as you could see, the day day up show. in this case, even if he is perceptibly a good professional, the agencies he was in were not patient enough, much less worried about his mental health, so, for his former bosses, it was reasonable to break the contract, because they didn't want to spend time and money trying to progress with his career.
> 
> i'm not aware of how things work inside the media; i don't understand how celebrities' contracts happen, nor if it's possible that they are fired from their respective agencies. i apologize if this occurrence was confusing. imagine that the place where yibo worked was terrible, that they neglected his situation and decided to cut ties, not expecting him to sue them for it. 
> 
> now, however, wang yibo is inside an agency that cares about his well-being, besides having friends who love him. yes, his career as an actor started as soon as he joined yuehua, and he didn't join the uniq band, but made friends with the members, dancing freely as he could behind the scenes. acclaimed as an actor, professional dancer and host, all his former agencies wanted to hire him back. his career leveraged considerably, and after a while, hang-ti was prosecuted and duly brought to justice, because with those who support him, yibo managed to create enough courage to bring the subject to the surface.
> 
> he isn't throwing up every time he eats, at least not like before. xiao zhan continues to work as a doctor, but now he lives with wang yibo, who strives every day to be a good boyfriend (he is learning very well). after a period of time, his parents have accepted his sexuality, lovingly letting xiao zhan into the family, but his uncles and grandparents still can't handle the situation (yibo kisses him brazenly in front of them to cause irritation).
> 
> his sister, the only one who never judged him for his life choices, called the two of them to be godfathers of her daughter, nang-li. xiao zhan's parents, in turn, are very dedicated to treating wang yibo as a xiao. they never look at him in a strange way, never ask uncomfortable questions, and constantly send gifts to their son-in-law. wang yibo is very grateful for everything he has — he finally feels grateful for the life he has received.
> 
> EDIT: jalpari, my jiejie, wrote a piece about xiao zhan's past. it's unbearably good. you can read on the link of related/inspired works!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [nobody is immune to the pain of being alive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29184270) by [jalpari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalpari/pseuds/jalpari)




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